#grow a fucking spine dude

[0alix0]

you hate solas x mythal because you think solas shouldn't have had any previous relationships in thousands of years of his life

i hate solas x mythal because it's yet another exhausting love triangle where the slaver and abuser gets a funky reincarnation and the victim gets blamed for absolutely everything and put into magical prison forever..........

we are not the same

[dreki-fern]

POV when ur exes ex all of a sudden tries to take apart of you just cause they don't like themselves oof

[claratyler]

im sorry i know gaius loves merlin and takes care of him all through the series but his homophobia and bootlicking make me so Angry. and whats worse is that he instills the same conformity and homophobia and bootlicking in merlin. Its evil evil evil

[frankensteinstdick]

“Fuck you’re so wet for me dude” he says, dragging my boxers down my legs as I hold my hips up in the air to allow him space to remove my clothes. The cold air now hits my exposed cunt, sending shivers down my spine and making me whine more for him to come back and warm me up.

His eyes fix on my small dick, widening at the sight and refusing to look away. His tongue peaks out, wetting his bottom lip before he bites down on it.

“Bro have you ever been sucked off?”

I tell him “yes, but it was always shit” which makes him laugh.

“They were just doing it wrong,” he claims, gaze still on my dick.

“Oh really? That sounds like a challenge, mate.”

Finally, his eyes look up, making contact with my own. A long, arrogant smirk makes its way across his face, sending a million thoughts racing through my head and down into my dick. His smirk only grows when he noticed how much more wet I am.

“Bet.”

[wolviensabes]

Logan has a massive breeding kink. 18+ Minors DNI.

I wrote something kinda similar with the whole 'rut' thing, but this will focus more on the 'breeding' aspect. Possibly will write a deep fic about this at a later date, for now this is just a short little drabble. Wrote with both afab and amab, as an afab I am not super familiar with reactions for those born as amab, so I tried my best!

Warnings: Uh filthy breeding sex thoughts?? Don't read if it's not for you. I did not edit this I typed all of this in like ten minutes.

I don't care if you are afab or amab, or capable of actually being biologically 'bred' or not...and neither does Logan.

He is going to fuck you full of his seed, no matter what hole he is stretching.

A lot of my followers have come to me and said they are amab, and I want to give you guys some love too. Logan will throw you on the bed...or couch...or floor. He will tear your clothes off while leaving all those lovely bites on your neck and shoulder, trailing down your chest and abdomen, his rough and calloused hands feeling you as he finally reaches your pants. I hope you didn't pay much for them because they're in tatters as he grows too frustrated to unbutton them.

"Look at you, rock hard from the thought of my cock in your ass?" He teases you, watching you throb and twitch, your own sex felt swollen and leaked like crazy. This man knew just how to get you going. He likes to stoke you until you squirm, spitting on your dick as his hand works you. His thumb trails teasingly on the tip and he grins down at you as you whine for him. "Ah, gotta lube up my fingers to stretch ya...don't want me goin' in dry do you?" he teases, using your precum as lube on his fingers and circling your tight hole.

He leans down, spreading you and licks over you, his tongue prying and greedy. Once you seem wet enough, he will push one finger in. Two, maybe three. Curling them against that pretty little spot that makes pleasure jolt up your spine and make you a moaning mess. So desperate for an orgasm you try reaching for anything to grab onto.

When Logan does penetrate you, it is so intense and you feel like he splits you in half. It stings and burns, but it also feels so damn good you don't want him to stop. Ever. "Logan! Oh my god, please, move...please." Your voice wavers with begging pleasure, just as he likes to hear. It gets him going, so riled up and ready to fuck you until you can't take it.

His balls are so heavy and his stockpile of cum is huge. It doesn't matter if you're a dude, he will breed you. It was funny the first time it came up during sex, he rolled his eyes at your genuine concern telling him you can't get pregnant. He deadpans at you and scoffed, "Ya, I know that, bub...it's called fantasy for a reason. Just let me have this." he grumbled, though your concern to his words was pretty cute...and funny.

"Damn it...fuck." he snarled as his cock buried as far as it could in your ass, watching himself disappear inside you. "Takin' me so well aren't ya, pup...watchin' you squirm with my dick inside you 'bout makes me unload." he groaned and teased you, enjoying how your face blushed darkly and you mewl under your breath, biting your lip to keep yourself from sounding like you're in a fucking heat.

"M'gonna fill your tight little hole with all my seed, you're gonna be drooling it outta your greedy ass, swallowing and milkin' me already..." he spoke filthy words while he thrusted hard and fast, you felt so dizzy and lightheaded in the best way. It was incredible, such pleasure overtook your body and you felt yourself spasm as he teased your tip, your own orgasm hitting you like a freight train.

You sputtered cum onto your belly and chest, he laughs lowly, grunting like a feral animal in your ear. "Messy boy. Look what you did..." He leaned down and licked a stripe through the mess and kissed you, your own cum on his tongue and you tasted yourself on the messy kiss. His hips stutter into you and he grabs you tightly, curling around your body and pressing you until he exploded inside your ass. That delicious snarling cry from him, a guttural roar, and his repetitive thrusts fill you up with his spunk.

He goes until every last drop is inside you, and he settles with his hips against you. "You're gonna keep me in ya...even if I have to keep my dick inside you."

With your pleading whine and groan, you pressed back against his cock, still hard in your ass. It makes Logan give a small thrust back, chuckling at you. You were so needy, it made him so fucking happy seeing how much you needed him. "That's my good boy, ya need it...? Fine. I'll give ya another load."

Logan talks a bit more if there's a possibility of getting you pregnant, or if he's with an afab. He's a little more filthy with his words since he knows the risks involved.

"Yeah...you want me to cum inside ya? You wanna get pregnant with my babies? Nngh....I'm gonna fill that womb. I'm gonna make sure you are leakin'..." he snarls at you while he's completely buried in your stretched, swollen cunt.

Can you barely register his words? Yes. But you don't care. You want his cum, you want him to fuck you senseless...which he has been. You were no better than a bitch in heat for him and he fucking loved it.

"Gonna be so damn full, gonna get you pregnant," he groaned and grunted hard, his instincts flaring with the possibility of actually impregnating and breeding you. It drove his hips faster and harder into you, like he couldn't control himself or stop.

His hips thrust so hard into you, the impact on your plush ass began to grow sore, you knew that your backside would be bruised and it wasn't even from spanking. He continued to pound into you, he bent you in all sorts of ways, positions you didn't think you could bend in.

Your body was covered in love bites and dark bruises, your nipples swollen from his teasing and they had a sting that enhanced all your pleasure with every thrust.

"Damn, look at you writhing. Such a good thing for me, sweet girl," he laughed as his dick kissed your cervix over and over, precum coating your inner walls. "I'm gonna fill you, princess...make that pretty little womb full." his hips continued to snap into you, biting your neck as he let out muffled growls against your skin.

You feel yourself crying with nothing but the overwhelming feeling of your orgasm, what number is this? You don't know. All you know is the pad of his finger is playing with your precious bundle of nerves and you can barely feel anything besides the raging fire of your climax shooting through you.

When he does cum, it is so much it overflows out of you, the sheer amount of it is insane. Your eyes widen, feeling the hot seed filling your precious fertile womb. If you're ovulating don't even think about running. Logan will literally hunt you down and bend you over until he is completely empty.

Thanks for reading my filthy thoughts lol. Maybe I'll turn this into an actual fic one day.

Byee 🧡

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

[greengoblinswifey]

Swim

summary— your dad’s best friend accompanies your family on a trip to California and things take an unexpected turn.

pairing— dad’s best friend!rafe x fem!reader

warnings— age gap(rafe is 40, reader is 20), unprotected sex, creampie, choking, ass slapping, degrading kink, praise kink, daddy kink, face fucking, fingering, reader is referred to as little girl by rafe a few times.

The sun glistened off the California shoreline, warm against your deep skin tone as you strutted along the beach in your skimpy black thong bikini. The ocean breeze felt good, and you were aware of the heads turning as a few boys nearby tried to catch your attention, throwing casual compliments your way. Your dad noticed and frowned from his chair, clearly uncomfortable with what you were wearing.

“She’s still your little girl, man, but she’s not a little girl anymore,” Rafe Cameron, your dad’s best friend’s voice cut through the air, smooth and relaxed. He sat next to your dad, sunglasses on, trying to look nonchalant. But you caught him staring, his eyes roamed your body, lingering just a bit too long on your curves. You bit your lip, pretending not to notice, but you could feel his gaze burning into you.

“Still, that bikini’s a bit much, don’t you think?” your dad muttered, flipping his book shut and shaking his head.

Rafe chuckled lowly. “She’s twenty, dude. You can’t control what she wears forever. And trust me, plenty of girls her age wear less.” He was trying to sound casual, but you didn’t miss the way his voice dipped, almost possessive. You smirked to yourself, knowing full well you’d caught his eye. The man you’d be pining after for as long as you could remember.

Your dad sighed, grumbling under his breath as he pulled his sun hat lower and reclined back, clearly defeated. Rafe’s eyes were still on you as your mom walked over to rub sunscreen on your dad’s shoulders. With your dad’s attention elsewhere, you decided to push the boundaries.

You walked over to where Rafe was sitting, your hips swaying slightly as you approached. “You two used to swim a lot back in Kildare, right?” you asked innocently, tilting your head as you looked at him. “Wanna join me for a swim, Rafe?”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Yeah, we did. And you’re right, I could use a dip.” He stood up, tall and broad, and pulled off his shirt, revealing his toned chest. Your stomach tightened just watching him, the tension between you thick and undeniable.

You both glided into the cool water, and you felt his large hand subtly rest on your lower back as you moved deeper into the waves. Every little touch sending a pulse of heat through your body. As you floated in the water, one of the boys who had been hitting on you earlier passed by, smirking.

“I didn’t peg you for the caregiver type,” he sneered, glancing from you to Rafe with a raised brow.

Before Rafe could say something snarky, you cut in, your voice dripping with confidence. “I like my men older, and more experienced.” You met the boy’s eyes with a smirk. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Rafe let out a low chuckle beside you, clearly pleased. “Damn right, she does,” he muttered under his breath, his grip on your waist tightening slightly.

You swam a bit deeper, away from prying eyes, and Rafe stayed close, his hands accidentally grazing your ass as he floated you. You could feel him stealing glances at your chest, your perky breasts barely covered by your bikini top. The air between you two sizzled.

“Oops,” Rafe said with a teasing grin as his fingers brushed over your ass again. You knew it wasn’t an accident, but the thrill of it all only made your heart race faster.

“Careful, Rafe,” you teased, meeting his gaze with a mischievous glint. “Wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong idea, would we?”

He laughed softly, his voice deep. “Not unless you want me to.” His words sent a shiver down your spine, the heat between you two growing. He floated closer, his body brushing against yours, and you could feel the tension crackling in the space between you.

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you, don’t you?” he murmured, his eyes flicking from your lips to your body.

“You seem to like it,” you said back, feeling bolder with each word. His eyes darkened, his hand slipping down to your hip, his fingers skimming the edge of your bikini bottom.

“Maybe I do,” he admitted, his voice husky. I’d like to fuck it, was what he wanted to say. You floated closer to him, your chest nearly brushing his as the waves gently rocked you together.

He leaned in just a little, his lips hovering near your ear. “Keep teasing me like that, and we’ll see what happens.”

You smirked, biting your lip. “Promise?”

Rafe grinned wickedly, but before he could say anything more, the sound of your family calling broke the moment. You both pulled away, but the heat between you lingered as you returned to the shore, his eyes never leaving your body.

Rafe quickly straightened up as your mom called out from the shore, waving you both over. “Dinner time!” she yelled, gesturing to the towels where your dad and brother were already sitting, towels wrapped around them.

You exchanged a quick look with Rafe before nodding and heading toward the shore. The air between you two still buzzed with everything that had happened in the water, but you both played it cool, keeping some distance now as you approached your family.

“Fun swim?” your dad asked, raising an eyebrow as he glanced between you and Rafe, though his tone was light.

“Yeah, it was great,” you replied, flashing a smile as you grabbed your towel to dry off.

Rafe casually plopped down next to your dad, pulling a beer from the cooler. “Like old times,” he said, clinking his bottle against your dad's, his tone easy, though his eyes briefly flicked over to you as you settled on the towel across from them.

As everyone settled into conversation and dinner, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Rafe. He looked relaxed, chatting with your dad like nothing was out of the ordinary, but you noticed the way his gaze lingered on you when he thought no one was watching. That same electricity sparked every time your eyes met, and you found yourself playing with the hem of your bikini absentmindedly, your thoughts drifting back to the water.

After dinner, the sun began to set, casting a warm golden glow over the beach. Your little brother and parents decided to go for a sunset walk along the shore, leaving you and Rafe behind at the towels.

“Want another swim before they get back?” Rafe asked, his voice low as he stood, extending a hand toward you.

You hesitated for a moment, glancing in the direction of your family as they walked off, before nodding and taking his hand. “Why not?” you said, your pulse quickening as he pulled you to your feet.

You both glided back into the water, the cool ocean now contrasting with the lingering heat between you. This time, when his hand brushed your lower back, there was no mistaking the intent. You turned to face him, your bodies close again, the space between you disappearing just like before.

Rafe leaned in, his lips close to your ear as he whispered, “Thought about what you said earlier, about liking older, more experienced men.”

You smirked, looking up at him through your lashes. “Still thinking about that, huh?”

He chuckled, his hand sliding down to your waist. “Hard to forget when you're parading around in that little bikini, little girl.”

You felt your heart race, the playful banter quickly turning into something more as his hand slipped lower, his fingers grazing the curve of your ass. “Rafe-” you started, but the warning in your voice was half-hearted at best.

“I can stop," he murmured, though his hands stayed where they were, "but I don’t think you want me to.”

You didn’t respond with words, but the way you pressed your body closer to his was answer enough.

Rafe pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours as the waves lapped around your legs. “We should head back,” he said, though there was a hesitant note in his voice that didn’t quite match the determination in his gaze. “This is wrong.”

“Yeah, but you’re not known for doing the right thing, are you?” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled. “No, I’m not,” he admitted, leaning closer. “You can stop this right now, you know? I won’t push you.” His gaze locked onto yours, searching for any sign of uncertainty.

You didn’t want to stop. Instead, you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer as you whispered, “I don’t want to stop.”

His hands moved to your ass, squeezing as he captured your lips with his. The kiss deepened, filled with urgency, as the ocean swirled around you both. Rafe broke the kiss, his breath hot against your cheek. “Use your words.”

You swallowed hard, looking into his eyes. “I want this, Rafe. I want you.”

His signature smirk appeared, the corners of his mouth curling up. “Then let’s go.”

You pulled out your phone, quickly texting your brother to cover for you. With a rush of adrenaline, you followed Rafe as he led you back to his hotel room, the weight of what you were about to do hanging in the air like a charged storm.

Once inside, the door clicked shut behind you, and Rafe turned to you, his expression a mix of mischief and desire. “We can take this slow if you want,” he said, but the way he looked at you told you he wasn’t sure he could handle that.

You didn’t want slow. You stepped into the bathroom, your heart racing as you took a deep breath. “Let’s shower,” you said, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions.

Rafe followed, his eyes darkening with hunger as he watched you. You turned your back to him and slowly peeled off your bikini. You glanced back at him, and you could see the awe in his eyes. “Wow,” he breathed, taking a step closer. “You’ve grown up, haven’t you?”

You smirked, biting your lip at the way he looked at you like you were a masterpiece. He slipped off his swim trunks, revealing himself, and you gasped at how impressive he was. “Wow,” you muttered, your heart racing.

Rafe stepped into the shower, the warm water cascading over both of you. He pulled you against him, his hands exploring your body as you gasped at the sensation of the water mixing with his touch.

As the water poured over you, he slid his fingers down to your pussy, finding you already eager and soaked. You moaned softly as he teased you, his other hand wrapping around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your head spin.

You moaned again, the heat pooling low in your belly. “Daddy,” you whined, feeling a rush of thrill at how wrong this all was.

“Such a naughty girl,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “Calling me daddy when your real daddy is probably wondering where you are.” He smirked, clearly enjoying your submission. He shifted his grip, and you felt the intensity of his fingers as they curled inside you finding that sweet spot. The sensation was overwhelming, and you could hardly catch your breath.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. He continued teasing you, his movements becoming more urgent.

You could feel yourself on the edge, his relentless movements pushing you closer to ecstasy. Every touch sent shockwaves through you, and all you could do was surrender to the pleasure as you felt yourself about to explode.

“Do it, cum for daddy, sweet girl,” he ordered and as he did, you felt yourself let go on his fingers. Your moans filled the bathroom but were masked by the sound of the shower.

“That’s it, that’s a good little girl.”

You smiled and he finished cleaning you up before you stepped out of the shower and dried yourselves off.

Get on your knees,” he commanded softly as soon as you were out the bathroom, a mix of dominance and lust in his voice.

You looked up at him, heart racing, excitement coursing through you. There was something thrilling about this moment, something you had never experienced before. With a slight nod, you sank to your knees and looked up at him with wide, eager eyes.

Rafe smirked, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “I’m going to use your mouth like a pussy. Just like this.” He stroked your cheek, his thumb grazing your lips. “You ready?”

“Yes daddy,” you breathed, the word slipping out before you could think. You were ready for whatever he had in mind.

He guided you closer, your heart pounding as you felt his presence looming above you. “Just remember,” he said, leaning down so his lips brushed your ear, “you can always tell me to stop.”

You nodded, determination filling you. You wanted this. You wanted him. Fuck telling him to stop.

With that, he held your head firmly, guiding you as he pressed forward. The sensation was overwhelming, and you could feel the heat rising between you. He thrusted harshly, your breath hitching as he filled the space around you.

“Good girl,” he murmured, watching you closely, his expression a mix of pleasure and satisfaction. “You’re doing so well for your daddy.”

As you adjusted to him, he began to set a rhythm, a harsh pace that filled the hotel room with the sound of muffled breaths and gagging. You could feel his hands in your hair, holding you in place as you surrendered to the moment, feeling exhilarated as he shoved his cock into the back of your throat like there was no tomorrow

“Look at you,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “So eager, such a perfect slut.”

The air around you was charged, and in that moment, you knew that everything had changed. You were both aware of the boundaries being pushed, the thrill of doing something forbidden igniting a fire within you.

“Daddy’s gonna cum baby, and you’re gonna swallow every last drop of my cum yeah?” You said something inaudible with his dick down your throat and he let out a mix between a chuckle and a moan.

“Here it comes slut, open up that fucking throat, yeah, fucking take it, swallow it whore.”

You nodded, parting your lips as you leaned forward, ready to please him. He watched you, eyes dark with desire as you took him in, the heat of the moment consuming you both. His hands tangled in your hair, guiding you as he thrust gently into your mouth.

“Good girl,” he praised, his breath hitching as you adjusted to him. “Just like that. Keep going.”

You complied, taking him deeper as he let go, your mouth filled with him. The sensation of him spilling into your mouth was overwhelming, and you didn’t hesitate to swallow every drop, relishing the way he looked at you afterward, part shocked, part completely enthralled.

As you caught your breath, he lifted you up from your knees by your neck, his expression shifting to one of seriousness. He threw you onto the bed, the softness of the sheets contrasting with the intensity of the moment. “If we do this, there’s no going back,” he warned, his voice low and serious. “Your dad would kill me if he found out.”

“I don’t care about that right now,” you replied, your heart racing with excitement and danger. “I only care about the daddy in front of me.”

He raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” you said, biting your lip. “I want your cock, right here, right now.”

With a low chuckle, he climbed on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. “Then let’s make this count,” he said, locking eyes with you as he prepared to take you further than you ever imagined.

“Please daddy.”

With a swift motion, he captured your wrists, pinning them above your head. “Good,” he said, his lips curling into a devilish smirk. “Then let’s see how much you can take.”

He thrust into you hard, filling you completely in one smooth motion. A gasp escaped your lips as pleasure and pain intertwined, your back arching at the sudden intrusion. Rafe’s breath was hot against your ear as he pressed his weight into you, dominating the space between your bodies.

“Tightest fucking whore pussy I’ve ever had,” he groaned, pulling back and slamming into you again, harder this time. You moaned, feeling the pleasure build with each thrust. “You like that, don’t you?” he taunted, a wicked glint in his eye.

“M-mhm,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Use your words, baby,” he said, his grip on your wrists tightening just enough to remind you who was in control. “Tell me how good it feels.”

“It feels amazing, daddy! Don’t stop!” you cried out, your body responding to his every movement.

He released your wrists, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as he picked up the pace. “You’re going to be my little secret, my fucking cock slut, my baby girl,” he growled, his lips brushing against your neck as he left hot kisses along your skin. “No one else gets to see you like this. I’m going to ruin you for anyone else.”

A shiver of excitement raced down your spine at his words. “Yes, please. I want you to ruin me,” you replied breathlessly.

With a primal growl, he increased the intensity, thrusting into you with a relentless rhythm that had your body and the bed shaking. “That’s it, baby. Take it all,” he encouraged, his voice laced with raw hunger.

You could feel the tension building, coiling tighter within you. “I’m so close!” you gasped, your nails digging into his back.

“Cum for me,” he commanded, his hips driving into you with fervor. “Show me how good I make you feel.”

With a final thrust, you shattered, waves of ecstasy crashing over you as you screamed daddy. Rafe followed closely behind, burying himself deep as he filled you, the heat of his release mixing with your own.

He collapsed onto you, both of you panting for breath, your bodies intertwined. “What did I tell you?” he murmured, kissing your forehead softly. “You’re mine now.”

[breadbrobin]

lavender roses

luke castellan x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!daughter of persephone reader]

summary: everyone thinks red roses are synonymous with the perfect love. you believe that lavender roses deserve more love, and luke believes that you’re worthy of all the love in the world—you’re both just bad at communicating it.

warnings: kissing, swearing, suggestive content, mentions of weapons, idiots, miscommunication trope but it’s cute dw, seriously they’re both so stupid and oblivious, besties to idiots to lovers

word count: 3.3k

(y’all i’m losing my mind i can’t stop writing but this might be one of my favourites ever)

(also i might put together a luke taglist and a clarisse taglist so lmk if you wanna be put on either of those and i’ll get to work on it 🤩)

———————————————

“i’m free february fourteenth,” you said nonchalantly.

you were sitting with luke at dinner and he’d just asked you if you ever had a day off working. as a daughter of persephone, you lived in the hermes cabin, but spent most of your time working in the strawberry fields. you spent every free moment there, soaking in the sun, helping the plants grow and picking flowers to put in vases around the cabin and infirmary.

he nodded as chris choked on his food beside him, coughing hard. “okay, we should hang out then.”

you weren’t sure if he knew what was going on. was he messing with you? playing a joke? really wanting to hang out with you on valentine’s day? or was he having a lapse of memory and he forgot that day had any significance at all?

either way, you nodded. when you spoke, your voice was slightly higher pitched than usual. “sure.”

“we can have a picnic. we haven’t done that in a while.” he was nodding still, looking into his food with a thoughtful expression.

the air nearly left your lungs. you nodded back, though he wasn’t looking at you, and exchanged a wide-eyed look with chris across the table. sure, you and luke used to go for picnics occasionally, but that was before he’d gotten unfairly attractive overnight and you’d developed the most annoying crush on him. “yeah, sure. it’s a date.”

if you could have jumped into tartarus you would have.

what the fuck. why would you say that?

chris was staring at you in shock.

your mouth was dry.

and luke was smiling like nothing was wrong. were his cheeks red? or was that your imagination? “yup! it’s a date.”

when he got up from the table to leave after dinner, he kissed your cheek. this wasn’t too far out of the ordinary, per se—it happened occasionally—but it sent a rush of adrenaline shooting down your spine and set your cheeks aflame.

chris’ eyebrows were raised. “what was that?”

“i have no idea,” you breathed.

“do you think he knows?”

your voice was even softer as you shook your head. “dude. i have no idea.”

valentine’s day couldn’t come soon enough.

you could hardly think of anything else. zoning out in the fields, losing focus while sparring, getting distracted by luke’s shoulder muscles while he was drawing back his bow, sending your arrow flying off to the side.

he laughed at you with everyone else, coming over to stand by your side. “you good there? need any help?”

you shook your head, your quaking fingers drawing the string back once more, pulling it taut. archery wasn’t your best skill, but you weren’t terrible at it.

you could feel his eyes on you, judging your form, analysing your aim. it put you off.

your arrow barely hit the target.

luke winced. “that was… better.”

you sighed and lowered the bow. “you’re distracting me!”

he laughed. “i’m distracting you?”

“yes!” you huffed, frowning at him. his eyes were lit up with amusement. “you are.”

“well, then i’m very sorry.” he raised his hands and took a step back, dipping his head too. “as you were, milady.”

you rolled your eyes with a smile and drew your arrow back, aiming and firing, but it still didn’t do well. in fact, every arrow that you shot pierced outside of the black rings. you were starting to think there was either something wrong with the bow or that you’d been cursed by one of the apollo kids, when someone’s hand lowered your elbow.

you looked over to see luke. he wasn’t watching your face. he was guiding your elbow down so it was more level with your arrow’s line and gently pulling your shoulders back so they were more even.

“pull back a bit more,” he coached quietly.

“i know what i’m doing,” you protested.

“i know, but today you look like you need a reminder. do you want my help? or do you wanna keep missing?” he finally looked you in the eye. he was sincere, you realised.

you sighed and draw the arrow back a little more.

he nodded happily and continued guiding your stance until you were perfect, his hands hot on your body and his breath on the back of your neck. he stayed behind you as you lowered the arrow and took a few deep breaths.

you were still watching him over your shoulder. his lips quirked as he reached out and gently turned your face away to look at the target. his hand was calloused and rough, but the tough was soft. you could barely breathe.

“focus,” he said softly. “eyes on the prize.”

you’re the only prize i want, was all you could think, but you didn’t say anything. you drew the arrow back, your fingers brushing against the corner of your lips. you felt better—more powerful, more confident—in this stance. and maybe luke’s presence behind you was helping with that too. you could feel the slight ghost of his hand on your waist. it kept you grounded. it stopped you from floating away.

your arrow pierced just beside the bullseye.

luke’s hand tightened on your waist, squeezing proudly. “that’s my girl.”

your heart fluttered as you smiled. “thanks, luke.”

he patted your lower back as he stepped away. “that’s what i’m here for. go kill it.”

then he was gone, and there was a fiery pit in your stomach that grew with each passing day that told you that—oh shit—you were in fully love with luke castellan.

february fourteenth arrived in a flurry of pinks, reds and whites. hearts adorned the camp, courtesy of the aphrodite cabin, and you and the demeter cabin had been tasked with growing what felt like hundreds of red roses. personally, you didn’t understand the hype surrounding red roses. after all, the lavender ones were the prettiest. they even meant love at first sight—far better than plain old love.

but with all the love in the air and the aphrodite campers swooning left and right, luke was sure to figure out his mistake and call off the picnic. it made you feel sick with anxiety, and your hands shook as you tended to the roses.

“y/n, hey!” luke’s voice came right next to you.

you flinched and the rose bush sprouted ten feet in the air with new flowers springing into existence left and right.

“whoa…” he said, looking up at it in shock. “i don’t think we need that many.”

“i don’t think anyone needs that many.” you muttered and took a deep breath, bringing the bush back down to size. “what are you doing here, luke?” your heart was in your throat. he didn’t look upset, but he’d always been good at hiding his emotions. was he about to tell you that he didn’t want to meet up later? or that he hated you for tricking him? thoughts started spinning like tops in your mind as you sunk into worse scenario after worse scenario.

“i just wanted to make sure we were still on for this afternoon? and to let you know to meet me by the lake.” were you imagining things, or did he look almost… nervous? his cheeks were red and he wasn’t meeting your eyes for more than a few seconds at a time. was he? really?

you nodded. “oh, uh, yeah. we’re still on. i’ll meet you…?”

“at two?”

“at two.” you smiled. he smiled back and you ignored the flutter in your chest. a strand of hair blew in front of your face.

his hand twitched by his side, like he wanted to push it back, but he just nodded. “okay. see you later.”

“later,” you nodded as he walked away. “can’t wait!” you called after him. he shot a grin over his shoulder, and once he was gone, you buried your face in the rose bush with an exasperated groan.

at 1:45, you still didn’t know what to wear.

your friend becky had dragged you into the aphrodite cabin and was shoving various outfits into your arms to try on, since you didn’t have many nice outfits of your own, but nothing was right.

even though you were the same size as her, nothing seemed to fit you as well as it did her—some aphrodite’s daughter bullshit, you guessed.

she sat down on her bunk next to you and sighed. “i hate to say it, but… we’re out of options.”

you groaned and flopped backwards, covering your face.

she swatted your hands away. “you’ll smudge your makeup!” she then sat back and sighed. “honestly, hun, you might just have to go naked.”

“i’m sure he’d love that!” one of her brothers called from across the room.

you threw a pillow at him, but it dropped halfway there.

then becky froze with a gasp. “oh, my gods.”

you sat up. “what?”

“wait here.” she got up and dashed away, peering into the depths of her wardrobe.

you watched absently, kind of worried she’d pull out some sexy lingerie, as she felt around at the very back, in the corner. then her face lit up. she pulled out a dress. it was white and floaty, with tiny pale pink flowers on it and the most flattering neckline you’d ever seen. she held it out to you and then dragged you to the designated changing area beside her bunk.

you changed slowly, not wanting to rip the delicate material, then looked at yourself in the mirror.

holy shit.

becky stuck her head around the corner and gasped. “perfect! ugh, i feel like a proud mother.”

you laughed, smoothing the floaty fabric over your thighs. it was kind of staticky. “yeah, thanks, mom.”

she grabbed your arm and dragged you out, showing you off. “siblings! my magnum opus.”

as whistles and cheers came from the few people in the cabin, you smiled.

“he’ll love it,” becky whispered. “you look hot.”

“it’s not even a date,” you protested. “it’s just a hang out.”

“sweet cheeks, its a picnic on valentine’s day.” she tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder. “it’s a date. now go. you’re gonna be late.”

you slipped on your white sandals and the light green jacket you always wore, let silena slip a white headband into your hair, then stepped out the door.

it wasn’t a cold day, exactly, but you were grateful for the jacket.

you rushed down the lake and got there two minutes late.

luke was no where to be found.

great, you thought. he was messing with me the whole time.

just as you were considering leaving, you heard footsteps running up to you.

“y/n! i’m so sorry, i could figure out—oh, wow...” luke stopped in his tracks as you turned around. his eyes were wide and his cheeks were red as he looked you up and down. he cleared his throat. “i didn’t know what to wear.”

he’d settled on a navy blue crew neck sweater and black jeans. his hair was messy, like he’d been running his hands through it, and he looked good. really good.

shit. that would make things more difficult.

“it’s okay,” you smiled. “neither could i.”

“well, you look… you look amazing.” his voice was soft, almost reverent.

gods, you didn’t think you’d ever be able to stop blushing. this was torture. “thanks,” you said though, pretending your heart wasn’t climbing up your throat and threatening to jump right into his hands—like suicide. “should we—“

“oh! yeah.” he nodded and stepped forward, placing a hand on your back (just low enough that it made your heart stutter, but high enough that it was innocent) and leading you towards the strawberry fields. “this way, milady.”

your heart was sinking a little as the fields came into view. everyone went to the strawberry fields. there were at least seven couples there already. it was the standard date spot. you had to remind yourself this wasn’t a date.

but he led you past the fields and into the forest.

great, so he’ll just murder me instead, you thought bitterly. it was like you were searching for a reason that it wasn’t a date now. at least i won’t have to deal with the embarrassment of everyone seeing.

you snapped out of your thoughts as his hand gently slipped into yours and you nearly fell over. he looked back at you, amused. you shot him a thumbs up as he set down a familiar path.

you knew where you were going.

there was a clearing in the woods where you went. it was you own personal secret garden, hidden deep in the forest behind a thick hedge that you’d grown yourself. it had taken weeks to get it thick enough to keep your space safe, and weeks again to regain enough strength to add any other plants to it. in the last year though, you’d been going there often, coaxing a few new plants to grow. you’d learned that forcing growth was hard and near impossible, but encouraging growth was easy.

you’d shown luke the garden one day a few months ago, just before you developed that pesky crush.

he pulled you gently in front of him to enter the garden first, through a magically shifting gap in the hedge, so that he could enter too, and stepped aside to pick up a hefty bag hidden just off the path.

you stepped through the hedge, your hand still linked with luke’s, and into your garden. it was the same as last time you were there, around a week ago; filled with flowers and bees, with a patch of clear grass in the middle, linked to the hedge by four paths, running north to south and east to west. some of the flowers growing were out of season, but as a daughter of persephone, you had a certain level of influence over things like that. bees buzzed lazily around your head as you entered, happy to see you again. everything seemed to get happier, healthier and brighter the second you stepped into the garden. it was your favourite thing and your favourite place.

you looked back at luke to see him smiling at you. “you know me too well.”

“i knew you wouldn’t like to have everyone around,” he shrugged. “and i wanted to see this place again. it’s better than last time i was here.” he looked around in wonder.

“well, last time you were here, i’d just gotten over the flu, so i was still pretty weak. all of my hydrangeas wilted.” you pouted and crossed the garden to your hydrangea bush, blooming in all ranges of colours. soil acidity and pH didn’t matter if you were the daughter of persephone.

luke laid down a plaid picnic blanket as you murmured a few words to some of your weaker looking plants, breathing life back into them. you could feel his eyes on you as he sat and waited, but you didn’t feel rushed or observed. more than anything, you felt admired.

finally, you sat next to him. he’d set out some food and water bottles for the two of you. he was prepared. that was one thing about luke castellan: he was prepared, always two steps ahead. which is why this didn’t make sense.

as you started eating, you found yourself staring at a lavender rose bush. love at first sight, you mused. if only.

you’d fallen for luke after a whole year of friendship. that made it worse. you’d loved him already, platonically, then, without warning, those feeling shifted. the way you looked at him changed in a matter of moments. when he’d gotten cherries on his plate for dessert after you were told you couldn’t have more, then he’d given them all to you, claiming he didn’t like them (even though you knew he did), you fell stupidly, irrevocably, in love. but the way he looked at you never changed: always soft, always kind and always the same.

you were drawn to look at him. you always were. the sharp lines and soft curves of his face. those dark eyes that made your heart flutter never wavered as they met yours. never shifted, never darkened, never clouded with anger. never. they were as constant as time, as reliable as the tide, as predictable as the full moon coming around again.

and he was looking at you now. “what?” he asked.

you blinked and looked away, watching as two bees clumsily bumped into each other and went on their way. “nothing.” would that be you and luke? two bees bumping into each other briefly, then going on with their lives? unlikely to cross paths again? you couldn’t let that happen.

“you know it’s valentine’s, right?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

luke lowered his apple, resting his hand on his knee. his forehead was creased in a confused frown. “yeah, why?”

“well… then why… why are we hanging out today? i mean, this isn’t a date.” you paused. “is it?”

his eyes widened. “wait, you don’t think—“

“it’s fine, luke.” you shrugged, pretending your heart wasn’t crumbling. “it’s my fault. i shouldn’t have brought up valentines. it was a silly joke, and—“

“a joke?” he frowned again. “this isn’t a joke.”

you looked at him. he looked earnest. “what?”

“it’s not a joke. why would i joke about going on a date with you?” he swallowed tightly and put his apple down. “did you… did you just think it was a joke?”

“no! well, yes. but i didn’t want it to be.” you exclaimed. “did… you want it to be?”

“no!” he exclaimed, turning to face you. “why would i want that? i thought we’ve been dating for three weeks now!”

“you, what?”

he took a deep breath. “you’re telling me that i’ve been assuming we’re dating for three weeks, and you’ve been assuming i’ve been joking for three weeks, because we’re both a little bit fucking stupid and can’t communicate our feelings properly?”

you stared at him, wiping your sweaty palms on your dress. the static crackled like the tension in the air. “i guess so.”

“huh.” he said, turning back to face the flowers. he was silent for a moment and you almost thought he’d leave, but then he started laughing.

“stop laughing,” you protested, pushing him lightly, your cheeks flaming hot. “stop it.”

he didn’t.

soon, you weren’t able to stop yourself from giggling, then you were both laughing uncontrollably. your stomach hurt and you had to lean on each other to avoid falling over. your faces were close—too close. your laughter died as you felt his breath on your face. his fingers brushed your hair behind your ear. his breath hitched as he did, like he’d been waiting to do that for months.

“i’ve liked you for months,” you whispered.

“i’ve liked you since the moment we met,” he cupped your face in his hand, his other one resting on your knee.

you could see the lavender roses behind him. love at first sight.

the two bees that had bumped into each other settled on the same flower.

fucking hell.

you kissed him before you could talk yourself out of it.

the kiss wasn’t like fireworks. it was more like the first flowers of spring: fresh, exciting and pure. his lips were soft. yours were probably rougher than his from your long hours in the fields. you figured he didn’t care, because he kissed you like you were the only air he needed to breath for the rest of his life. you could feel flowers blooming around the picnic blanket—daisies and dandelions in the grass. the plants in the gardens were going wild. he was like a drug; some kind of amplifier for your powers and your heart rate and gods, you never wanted to let him go. his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer against him. your hand rose to his cheek and static electricity jumped from your skin to his.

he pulled away with a gasp, his hand on his cheek. then he laughed, and kissed you again.

and again.

and again.

and again.

and you were infinitely glad for the privacy of your own secret garden.

[hyuckdolle]

B☆CKSHOTS. ᥫ᭡ mark x fem!reader

request: ( yes / no ) , @kuntyswife thank you for requesting boo !! 🤍

content warning: ( drabble ), doggystyle, praise kink, he calls reader princess, freaky sht ⭐️ want more?

messages: i’m not going in a particular order when doing requests, ima just upload which ever i finish first! … anyways first time writing abt mark kinda nervous. 🎀 feedback + reblogs is always appreciated ! especially if you plan on submitting requests <3.

⋆ idk i feel like mark would take it slow at first and then once he gets comfortable he gets freaky with it. the way he would talk you through and praise you. he’s a “take your time baby” ass dude ( him and taeyong but ). he would genuinely make love to you oml.

“shhh you’re too good to me,” he shushed you gently, praising you as you whimpered into the pillows that lay on your bed. his body leaned over yours as he laid fluttery kisses on your neck. his thrusts were slow and deep, like he was genuinely making love to you. you could feel every inch, the lengthy drags of his cock against your walls, and the way his tip would occasionally press up against your g-spot. the look of love he would have in his eyes, literally the heart eye emoji.

he would speak to you all softly and gently, his voice growing deeper than usual, “come on, throw it back for me princess.” he slapped your ass and sped up, grabbing your right cheek. you began throwing it back on him, your nails gripping the sheets as you felt the pleasuring tingles on your fingertips.

the way you would look back at him with watering doe-like eyes genuinely makes his dick jump. the innocent-looking furrow of your brows as you let out breathy gasps. and the way you reached to grab him so that he would give you the sweetest of kisses. despite your little cunt swallowing him whole, making the nastiest of squelching noises.

him dragging his hand up your spine to the back of your neck before pushing you into the pillows again, just to fuck you dumb. the loud moans and babbles of his name as your ass clapped against his pelvis, his balls hitting your tiny clit all perfectly.

he would let you grab onto one of his arms to steady yourself, your nails accidentally and occasionally digging into him. the corners of your faux mink lashes began to fall off as tears spilled out from the sweet pleasure.

“baby please-” the only audible thing that left your mouth before you bit the pillow and sobbed into it, your thighs were trembling and all. he pressed his hand into your back, deepening your arch as you tried your best not to run. but it felt too good to not. you were literally dripping down his balls and onto your sheets, leaving wet dots of arousal. the slaps of his balls colliding with your plump pussy splashing it, making a wet mess.

when he feels he’s about to cum, he lets out the prettiest of groans and tosses his head back. “look at how good this pussy is gripping me… fuck,” and he would not want to pull out </3.

 hyuckdolle 2023. all rights reserved !

[sutorus]

imagine having a sleep over at megumis and toji decides to steal you away once he finally passes out 😮‍💨 his shirts and sweats probably have cigarettes burns in them

you gave me sm toji brain rot

-🫧 anon

we gave each other toji brainrot anon 🤝 kind of a part 2 to the kinktober toji fic

WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI. f! reader, unprotected, mild daddy kink, some anal play, degradation, toji being toji

you’re shifting on your feet, lips trapped between your teeth as you ring the doorbell. you’re early to the sleepover by a full hour.

you don’t know what you want to expect. if it’s toji, sitting on the couch, glass of some cheap shit on the armrest and hand tucked into his sweats.

or if it’s megumi, waiting at the door, bowl of popcorn by his hip and tv blasting because his dad isn’t home to scowl about the noise.

megumi does open the door. and toji does sit there.

and somehow, that’s the least likely, worst case scenario.

“hey,” megumi greets you, stepping aside to let you in.

toji doesn’t spare you a glance, so you let your eyes travel all over him. his bare feet propped up on the center table, his arm behind his head and fingers scratching his hair.

megumi notices you looking and — thankfully — only clicks his tongue, believing you’re just as irritated at his father’s presence as he is.

and are you? you’re unsure.

you don’t know how to face toji. you don’t know how to interact with him anymore, if you even should.

you sleep over at megumi’s house all the time, but right now you suddenly forgot how it even goes. do you take your shoes off at the genkan? do you leave your bag by the door?

you decide to just walk to megumi’s room wordlessly, taking the long way behind the couch as to not block toji’s view from the tv.

this doesn’t go unnoticed by either men.

megumi follows you inside, closing the door behind him and plopping down on his bed.

“so are we starting with the first movie?” he flips his laptop open. “it’s the best one, anyway.”

“uh, yeah, sure,” you sit down beside him hesitantly.

you’re just now noticing how much megumi and toji look alike and it’s freaking you out.

“what the fuck is wrong with you today?” blunt as always. blunt as toji.

“huh? dude, chill,” you lie down, placing the laptop on your lap. megumi eyes you suspiciously before lying down beside you. “i just didn’t sleep much last night.”

“right,” he says, skeptical but disinterested, and presses play.

every minute of the movie is torture — on the screen and in your head.

around the beginning of saw iii, megumi orders pizza. him, you and toji eat in silence.

complete silence. he doesn’t even look at you.

why isn’t he looking at you? you’re in your pajamas already. no bra. short shorts. you thought you’d both established that that worked on him.

toji wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and gets up, with a grunted clean up when you’re done.

it’s so frustrating, the total lack of attention, and you’re starting to get pent up. settling back down next to megumi to watch fucking saw iv and hear him question the viability of each trap drives you crazier by the minute.

when you finally tuck in for the night, you’re anything but relaxed.

what happened to “you have one more hole for me to wreck don’t you”? toji’s so full of shit, probably too drunk to even get it up tonight anyway.

it’s those angry thoughts that lull you to slumber, regret settling deep in your gut for having ever let that horrible man inside you.

not long after you fall asleep, however, you’re stirred awake, a soft, sake-soaked breeze blowing over your face.

you crack one eye open, no surprise in your gaze because who else could it be.

toji’s smirking, crouched down, eyes searching all over your sleeping form. it sends a chill down your spine.

what do you want, you mouth to him, anger persisting against the arousal already starting to build within you.

his grin grows wider, wilder. he gets up slowly and beckons with two fingers, and like the silly fucking slut you are, you follow.

you — not toji — make sure to gingerly close the door to megumi’s room before you turn around to face him. or rather, face his chest, the flimsy cloth littered with cigarette burns that covers those muscles you finally got to know so well.

“hello?” is all you can manage to say.

he loves your indignation, loves the brattiness, will love to fuck it out of you tonight, too.

“what, don’t want it?”

you roll your eyes.

“you had to wait until megumi’s right there to say you wanna do it?” your focus wavers as he runs his hands up and down your waist. “you couldn’t have pulled me aside before?”

toji presses his leer to the side of your throat, caging you in against the wall right by the door. you let out a soft moan, hands already reaching for his arms.

“had to make sure you two weren’t gettin’ it on,” he growls into the crock of your neck, making you grimace in disgust. “i don’t like to share my toys, y’know.”

“ew, he’s your son,” the irony in your statement isn’t lost on you, the person you should actually be ewing at.

you push him away and the feeling of his abs under your palms is enough to break any rest of resolve you had in you.

toji lets out a low, satisfied laugh, throwing his head back. “exactly why i worry.”

soon enough, and unsusprisingly, he has you bent over the kitchen island, pussy stretched out and dripping on his thick cock.

“shut the fuck up,” he keeps saying when you moan, only to fuck you harder and faster and deeper.

the furniture is digging into your belly, your forearms skidding on the top. you whine softly, angling your hips so he can hit that one spot inside you that makes you see stars.

“ohhh yeah, fuck back into me,” he grabs your hair and you let out a yelp, punished with a blow to your ass. still, you do as you’re told, the sounds of your skin slapping against his growing louder, quicker.

“t-touch me, touch me, make me cum,” you beg in a desperate whisper, head straining in his grip.

toji laughs, dragging his cock out of you slowly before plunging all the way back in.

“shut up, slut,” and god, why is that so hot to you, “last i checked you weren’t in a position to make demands.”

you whimper, trying to snake a hand down your clit to do it yourself.

suddenly, toji stops.

“ah, that reminds me,” he slowly, torturously slowly to make you feel every inch of him, pulls out of you completely. then he pokes your asshole with the head of his cock.

“no,” you say in a panicked breath, trying to turn around in his grip. “no, no, not today, definitely not right now no—“

“shhh, fuck, be quiet,” he wraps his entire forearm around your throat and brings your body into his chest, nibbling at your jaw. “you’re gonna like it.”

“i don’t want to,” it’s one last attempt, the most honest one you have. toji likes fucking with you, flustering you, that much is obvious.

but is he seriously— and without any prep, too?—

he chuckles low in his throat, right into your ear.

“then ask me not to.”

he slides the tip back into your cunt and you relax a little, even moving your hips back and forth like hey! look how good my pussy is! can you just stay in it and not ruin my ass please!

“please don’t fuck my ass,” you try.

“hmm,” he hums, sliding his cockhead out. then back in. then back out.

“please, toji, don’t fuck my asshole tonight,” you clench around him, trying to take more of his length inside.

“not good enough, whore,” he slams all way back in, shoving your body into the sharp wood and making you wail. toji starts moving, fucking little noises out of you with every thrust. “say, ‘no please daddy not there, not my little asshole!’”

you let out a long, pitchy whine, clawing at the arm around your neck.

“do it or else,” toji gathers up some wetness at your entrance with your thumb and presses it to your asshole, rubbing little wet circles.

“fuck you, toj—ahh,” his finger slips inside and you clench down hard. “please! please daddy not there, not my—“

toji cackles, fucking you in earnest now, plowing every word and thought out of your brain. you’re grunting with the force of his thrusts, finding purchase in the edges of the kitchen island, knuckles turning white.

“such a good little girl, aren’t ya,” he says into the shell of your ear, snaking a hand around your hip to rub your puffy clit.

you throw your head back onto his shoulder, legs shaking in between his. “ahhh, fuck, d-daddy—“

your orgasm washes over you so forcefully that you feel like folding in two, going limp in toji’s grip as he chases his own.

he buries a few low, animalistic grunts into your hair before he’s filling up your cunt, aborted little thrusts pushing out staccato breaths from his lips.

he releases his grip on you, cock still spurting out the rest of his load.

once he pulls out, toji keeps feeding his cum into your pussy over and over, telling you to watch the floors before you have to limp your way to the bathroom to clean up.

you do the best you can without taking a shower, body so thoroughly exhausted that you don’t even know if you’d have the energy for one.

right now, all you want is to plop down on a soft surface and get some much needed sleep, feeling actually satisfied.

when you leave the bathroom, you’re faced with a groggy, disheveled megumi standing by his bedroom door.

your eyes quickly scan your surroundings.

toji is nowhere to be seen.

megumi’s eyes reveal nothing, none of the thoughts that might be going through his head right now.

as for you, there’s only one word bouncing around inside your skull:

fuck.

a/n sorry again

[kiribakuswife]

First Time for Everything

Lowkey a prequel to A Captive Audeience

Hanta Sero x Reader, Bakusquad x Reader

Kinktober Day 15!!

You didn’t know where the bolt of confidence came from as you sunk down to the floor. You doubted your boyfriend even knew you were there, smirking up at him as he was fully captured in his game. You didn’t know why, but something inside you urged you on, the thought of being so close to being caught doing something to you.

He jumped slightly as your hands drifted over his thighs, looking down at you confused. He smirked lightly, shifting his hips so you could ease his pants down a bit. He smirked down at you, and you felt your heartbeat quicken. A part of you wanted to run, to say sorry, you didn’t know what you were thinking, as he responded to a question from the other side of the headset, mic on, but another part of you…

His hand was steady as he brushed your hair back, urging you forward. His smile was soft as you looked up to him, making your heart squeeze. He gave you a small nod, confirming that it was okay, causing you to smile back. His eyes flicked back to the screen as you watched him, hand leaving your hair and gripping the controller again.

With the new found confidence, you leaned forward, placing a small kiss against his slit before slowly taking him in your mouth. He was still sort of soft as you began to move slowly, growing as your tongue swirled around him in a way that made your thighs clench together. 

He leaned back a bit, allowing you better access as he watched you, eyes searing into his own as you glanced up. He groaned quietly at the contact, making your eyes widen. “Chill dude, I’m coming just give me a sec.” He said, pulling his eyes away from you and back to the screen.

You worked slowly, dragging your tongue across him in a way that made him shiver. His thighs were beginning to tighten under your hold, your fingers tracing over him. “Oh fuck.” He groaned out, eyes fluttering shut. If there was one thing about Hanta, he was less than quiet, and you smirked at yourself at the noise. “No, of course not.” He said, stiffening, you glanced up at him, pulling off with a confused face. “You think you’re funny huh?” he asked, gesturing for you to continue. “I’d bet you’d like that huh?” He laughed, looking back down at you as his breath picked up, chest heaving.

He suddenly sat up, startling you as you leaned back, releasing him again. “Are you okay?” You asked. He smirked at you, pulling the headset off. “What?” You asked, face dropping as he put it on you instead. You gapped at him as he laughed lightly.

“Say hi, babe.” He smirked, and you felt chills run across your heated skin.

“H-hello?” You asked. You had no idea who was on the other side, honestly kind of scaring you in a way that made you part annoyed, part aroused, despite yourself.

“Just couldn’t wait, hmm, baby girl?” A voice purred on the other end, familiar.

“Kaminari?” You asked, bewildered. You didn’t know what you expected from your little act, but it certainly wasn’t this.

“What’s got you so impatient, sweet heart?” Another voice cooed.

“Kirishima?” You breathed, looking up to Hanta with wide eyes. He watched you, lids heavy as he gripped his cock.

“You can’t even answer a simple question, hmm?” The final voice chimed in. It was Bakugou, and you felt a shiver go through your spine. You didn’t know how to feel. “No one told you to stop.” Your mouth dropped a surprised gasp falling from your lips. Hanta reached down, brushing your hair back before grabbing it in a makeshift ponytail, causing a light groan to slip out at his hold.

“What are you waiting for, baby girl?” Kaminari urged you on.

“Don’t tell us your shy, sweet heart.” 

“She’s not shy, she’s needy.” Your face flushed at Bakugo’s words. It wasn’t like he was wrong and it was embarrassing that he read you so easily. Hanta’s other hand came up, stroking your cheek. You eased forward then, taking him into your mouth again.

“Why is his mic so sensitive?” Kaminari groaned, causing you to flush. They really could hear everything you were doing, and the thought of it made your skin tingle.

“You’re doing great, sweet heart.” Kirishima purred, making you whine around Hanta. His grip tightened at your noise, a groan of his own joining you.

“Listen to you, just a little praise and you're practically melting, pathetic.” Bakugou spit, another moan catching in your throat as Hanta eased your head down further.

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” Hanta laughed horsley, allowing you to pull back and catch your breath for a brief moment.

“Yes.” You sighed out to him, before resuming your work. He was thrusting up into your mouth now.

“What did he say?” Kaminari asked.

“If she liked it.” Kirishima sighed, sounded distracted.

“Of course she likes it, she’s a little whore.” Bakugou spat, and your core nearly throbed at his words. You felt hot, confused at why you were liking it so much. Hanta gripped your hair tighter, his pace picking up as he thrusted into you. Your jaw went slack, allowing him to use you as he wished, head spinning. He was hitting the back of your throat, causing tears to spring in your eyes, messy as they fell down your face. With one more sudden thrust, he was cumming, hot in your mouth as you sputtered, trying to pull back as he held you, forcing you to swallow.

He finally released you, letting you pull back with a pop as you coughed, hiccupping as you tried to catch your breath.

“Breath, sweet heart, you’re okay.” Kirishima eased, causing a whimper to fall from your lips, mind fuzzy.

“That was so hot.” Kaminari whined.

“Tell plain face to take care of you on his own time he’s fucking up our-” Bakugou’s words were cut off as Hanta pushed off the headset, pulling you into his lap instead. He wiped your tears as he smiled at you.

“That was amazing, babe.” He whispered, placing a kiss on your cheek, “You’re amazing.” He added with a purr, pulling you closer as he stood, carrying you to the bedroom.

[aestheticaltcow]

Girlfriend Treatment

Inspired by this blurb This is a really fun multiverse to write for, maybe expect more...

MDNI 18+

The Bear Masterlist

Next part

“Carmen, you’re not my boyfriend. We’re not exclusive. I’m gonna fuck who I want. When I want. How I want. Leave.” 

You’d slammed the door in Carmy’s face, leaving him dumbfounded. The words echoed in his head as he stared at the door. He scoffed and shook his head as disappointment and shock washed over him. He fished his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. 

Carmy brought it to his lips and quickly lit it before turning on his heel and exiting your apartment building. As he entered the crisp spring night, he could only hear your remark about him not being your boyfriend and how you could do whatever you wanted. Carmy recognized your point. He wasn’t your boyfriend, but fuck, he wanted to be.

As Carmy lay in bed that night, he thought about you. The smell of your perfume lingered in his sheets; he closed his eyes as he inhaled the scent. He could never remember the name of it, but the lingering almond vanilla musk made his heart yearn. “Fuck.” Carmy chuckled; he knew what he had to do. 

“Can’t come over. Work.” You read Carmy’s text aloud to your friend Cecilia. “I sent him pictures, and he didn’t respond for like six hours. I don’t get it.” You groaned, throwing your phone on the couch next to you. Cecilia laughed, “You two are so dumb. He’s clearly into you, but you’re trying to convince yourself that you aren’t into him.” “I’m not into him like that- he’s a good fuck, that’s it.” Cecilia rolled her eyes and playfully slapped your thigh. “You like him, dude. It’s okay, it isn’t a big deal. You can’t have sex with someone for months and not develop at least minor feelings for them.” 

Carmy got out of the shower and noticed a new message from you. He groaned as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He’d been trying to push you out of his head, but he melted when his phone displayed you sprawled on your bed in his favorite lacy underwear and a message about being lonely. You were pleased with yourself when he’d responded almost immediately. When a picture came through of him standing in his bathroom with a towel loosely hung around his hips, chest, and chain glistening with leftover water, it made your stomach flutter.

When Carmy showed up at your place that night, he couldn’t help but think about the last time he’d been at your door. While he enjoyed the casualness of the relationship, he didn’t want anyone else and sure as hell didn’t want anyone else having you. He didn’t even have to knock. You opened the door and pulled him through the doorway. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a deep, needy kiss. Carmy smirked into the kiss. He closed the door with one hand, and the other was under your shirt. Your skin tingled as his fingers pressed against your spine to bring you closer, deepening the kiss.

“On your knees.” Carmy groaned as he pulled away from the kiss, “You wanna be in charge tonight?” you sweetly asked, looking up at him to see his eyes darkened with lust. “On your knees. I don’t want to repeat myself.” Carmy commanded as he pressed a final kiss to your throat. You nodded and sank to your knees. Carmy sighed as you fumbled with the button and fly of his jeans. He watched you pull them down to release his growing erection. You took him in your hand and spit before slowly stroking up the length of Carmy’s cock. You stared up at Carmy as you ran your tongue up the underside of him before taking the tip into your mouth. As you swirled your tongue around it, you felt Carmy’s hand grasp the back of your head. “Come on, princess, you know what I want you to do.”

As Carmy’s orgasm approached, he pulled out of your mouth, a string of salvia connecting your lips to him. “Keep your mouth open.” Carmy moaned as he stroked himself. You giggled and stuck your tongue out for him; his strokes got sloppier as he got closer. “Fuck.” Carmy cursed as he came across your face. He watched as you brought a finger to your cheek to collect the semen and bring it to your mouth, “So fuckin’ hot, baby.”

 “Yea?” you asked, batting your lashes in his direction. You rose to your feet to take him back to your bedroom. You were a few steps ahead before noticing Carmy wasn’t following you, “What ya waitin’ for, Berzatto?” Carmy was buttoning his jeans, “Gotta go. I have plans.” 

You stood there dumbfounded. “What do you mean you have plans?” Carmy shrugged in response before explaining he was going to a bar with a girl he’d matched with on Hinge. “You’re on Hinge? Since when?” you laughed, trying to save face. Carmy nodded, “We’re not exclusive.” “No,” you shook your head, “you don’t get to just come here for head and leave.” you crossed your arms over your chest. “Sorry? Call you later.” Carmy shrugged before walking out of your apartment. “What the actual fuck?” you asked yourself as you stood there expecting Carmy to come back inside to say he was just messing with you. 

Carmy was awoken by pounding on the door; he snapped up and looked over the backside of the couch. His apartment was dark aside from the warm light coming from the TV. He got up and pushed a hand through his hair before going to the door. When he saw it was you, he knew his plan had worked. “Okay. What the fuck is going on with you?” you asked, pushing past him into the apartment. Carmy laughed to himself and closed the door before turning his attention to you, “I wanna be your boyfriend.” 

You looked at him as he crossed his arms over his chest and stood proudly by the front door, “What?” you questioned. “I wanna be your boyfriend.” Carmy restated sternly, “I want to be exclusive. I don’t you fuckin’ other dudes. I wanna take you on dates. I wanna meet your friends. Fuck it, I’ll go to fuckin’ brunch with you.” you stared at him in disbelief, “You want my cock? That’s only for my girlfriend.” he rocked on his heals hoping this wouldn’t bite him in the face. You scoffed at his comment, “Okay, so you don’t wanna have sex with me?” Carmy shook his head. “I’d love to bend you over my counter and fuck you dumb…” he said, stepping closer to you, “but I only do that to my girlfriend…” he whispered into your ear, making you shutter. “So. What’ll it be? Agree to be exclusive, delete whatever apps you have, block whoever you need to block… then have me worship your pussy all night long… or leave and lose my number?”

[bigification]

Avengers Assemble - Halloween TF

"I can't believe Tony rented out the entire fucking penthouse for this shit." Bruce exclaimed as the three men entered the elevator.

"When has he ever spent less than like 100 grand on a party." Jon responded.

"And why did it have to be a Marvel themed Halloween party, I could have been some sexy vampire or something. Now I'm stuck in this tight ass captain america suit." Grant complained.

"At least you didn't have to paint yourself green for your costume."

"Aww, but it was so perfect. Your name is Bruce so you had to be Bruce Banner."

"Then why couldn't I just throw in some glasses and wear some nerdy clothes. I don't know why I should have to paint myself green if all you have to do is throw on a chest plate and buy a cheap hammer off Amazon."

"Hey, I dyed my hair blonde for this costume. And you didn't have to paint yourself green."

The men's bickering was interrupted by the elevator door suddenly opening. It was still one level lower than the penthouse.

"You pressed the wrong fucking floor Grant." Bruce accused.

"I pressed the one that said penthouse." Grant defended.

Their bickering was once again interrupted as a futuristic robot approached the elevator.

"Welcome to Stark Tower, please come in to confirm identity." The robot asked.

The three men stood in confusion for a moment before reluctantly following the robot out of the elevator.

"Tony spent more money on this than I thought."

"His dad must have given him a bigger allowance this month."

"There is no allowance. Mr. Stark built with his own hands."

"Who the fuck are you talking about, Mr. Stark?"

"Dude shut up, it was probably just programmed to along with the theme of the party."

The robot suddenly stopped in the middle of the room and turned towards the men.

"Please reach out your hand so I can confirm your identity." The robot asked facing Bruce.

"Uugh ok. Tony's really commited to this theme." Bruce said while reaching his hand toward the robot. "Ah fuck!" Bruce yelled as a small needle pierced his hand.

"Identity confirmed, welcome Bruce Banner."

"What the hell was that?" Bruce recoiled.

"Please reach out your hand so I can confirm your identity." The robot turned to Grant, ignoring Bruce's reaction.

Jon reluctantly reached out his hand and a similar needle punctured his hand.

"Ow, that hurt more than I thought it would."

"Identity confirmed, welcome Steve Rogers."

"Oh that's sick!" Grant yelled in excitement.

"Please reach out your hand so I can confirm your identity." The robot turned to the last man, Jon.

"Hmmm." Jon mumbled under his breath, trying to hide his pain.

"Identity confirmed, welcome Thor."

The men stood there in silence for a moment, waiting for the robot to give them further instructions.

"Sooo?" Jon asked, getting impatient.

"Waiting for transformation process."

"What?" Grant said in an aggressive tone.

"Guys... What's going on?" Bruce held out his arm, showing his veins turn to a green hue.

"What the fuck is happening to you?" Jon took a few steps away from him.

"I... Don't... Know." Bruce struggled to say as his voice turned into more of a growl. All his muscles tensed up as his body began to grow. His spine stretched, making his height grow higher and higher by the second.

"Oh my god..." Grant's jaw dropped as he watched his friend grow. His head tilted back as he now had to look up at Bruce.

Bruce grunted and growled, it sounded like he was in pain and pleasure. His shoulder nearly doubled in size as his biceps grew to the size of watermelons. His forearms followed suit and his hands became massive, big enough to wrap fully around someone's head.

"What did you do to him!?" Jon yelled at the robot, to no response.

By this point Bruce's skin was completely green, but his body was far from complete. His flat chest surged with muscle, creating two meaty pecs that hung over his stomach. Speaking of his stomach, all the fat he accumulated in his gut from his lavish lifestyle melted away, leaving him with a defined six pack and a V shaped torso.

"Huuu... Uulk." Bruce managed to speak in a deep raspy voice.

His two friends couldn't say a word, they just stood watching him morph into a monster.

The transformation shifted down towards his legs, on the way his flat ass burst outward with fat, creating two perky fat cheeks that threatened to rip through his costumes purple shorts. The bulge in the front of his tight shorts grew exponentially. At first it was barely visible against the taught fabric, but it grew to 8, 10, 12, over 14 inches in moments. It swung out as it finally ripped through his poor pants.

His thighs quickly followed, growing even longer and making Hulk's head hit the ceiling. They grew thicker than tree stumps, making his monstrous dick seem more proportional. And his feet ripped through his tiny shoes in an instant, easily growing 30 sizes in seconds.

"Is it me or is he kinda hot now." Grant said.

"What the hell are you talking about!?" Jon yelled, completely shocked at what he heard.

"I... I don't know why I said that." Grant seemed to snap out of the trance he was in.

Bruce's transformation finally came to an end as his head began to change. His head grew at least twice the size, now being in proportion with the rest of his massive body. His jawline became more square and his jawline became more prominent, giving him a more masculine look to match the huge muscles on his body. His hair shortened to a buzz cut and became a black colour as a black five I clock shadow covered his face. The hair quickly spread across his body, especially covering his chest.

"Hulk... Is... Me." Hulk managed to say between heavy breaths.

"Welcome, Hulk." The robot said as he brought over a rock necklace and a massive towel.

The hulk put on the necklace and covered himself with the towel before taking a seat and waiting for his friends to arrive.

"Is it just me or is it really hot in here, this stupid costume is making me sweat." Grant complained as he tried to readjust the tight suit.

"Yeah it's just you.." Jon paused as he turned to face Grant. "Dude, look at your arms."

Grant stopped pulling at his uniform and looked down at his own body. His arms were almost pulsating, getting bigger and bigger each time.

"Ohhh no, it's happening to you too." Jon backed away from his friends, afraid of what was to come. Grant was completely distracted by his own body, unable to process his friend's reaction.

Grant's arms grew until they threatened to rip through his uniform, showing off his perfect definition through the fabric. His hands followed suit, becoming thick and calloused from whipping that shield around all the time. On that note, he felt the shield on his back become significantly heavier as the once cheap plastic shield became pure Vibranium. His shoulders then broadened, growing until they perfectly fit the straps that held his shield, as if that uniform had been custom fit to him.

"Grant? What the fuck is going on!" Jon yelled, but it was as if Grant couldn't even hear him.

"No Grant. Steve." The hulk replied.

Steve's body started to seize slightly as his chest burst out into two muscly pecs, accented by the silver star that boldly sat on top of them. The skin tight suit had previously shown off his small gut and fluffy love handles, but his gut dramatically swelled and stretched his uniform to its brink before collapsing into itself, leaving a sharp six pack and slutty waist in its place.

"Damn, Rogers. You're gonna need to show me how you abs like that." Jon said in a British accent, which was an odd departure from his American accent. He immediately covered his mouth, in shock of both what he said and the accent he said it in. Though the remark did get a laugh from the Hulk.

Steve leaned forward as his previously unremarkable ass swelled into the 'Americas Ass' that he's well known for. His pant legs looked as if they'd been pumped with air as his thighs thickened and filled his pants to their limit. And the loose pouch covering his crotch came in good use when his dick started to pulsate, similar to how his muscles had before they grew. Pleasure shot all through his body as one of his hands held his crotch and the other cupped his thick pecs. All he could think about was how hot it was that he was the Steve Rogers. And meanwhile his dick grew harder and longer, much larger than it ever had before. It pressed hard against his uniform, pulsating back and forth, begging for release. Well he would have to wait long. He let out a deep moan in an unrecognizable voice while a stain developed in his crotch.

"Ah, fuck not again. I can't keep bringing this suit back to the dry cleaners with cum stains on it."

While he complained, well trimmed hairs sprouted across his face as his jawline sharpened. His face slimmed down and his features became more mature and masculine.

"Ugh, I don't know why but my muscles feel so tight today. I need to get back to the gym."

The robot approached him while he was stretching his muscles.

"Welcome Captain America." The robot said while handing over a small towel for the stain in his pants.

"Thanks buddy."

"You realize it's just a robot, you don't need to be nice to it." Jon replied in a condescending tone, fully letting in to the British accent.

"Thor are you drunk already, we haven't even got to the party yet." Steve laughed.

"I... I'm not Thor." Jon slurred his words, despite not having drank anything yet.

"Sure." Steve replied as he turned towards the Hulk. "What's up." He said as he punched the Hulk on the shoulder.

"Waiting... Thor."

"Me too buddy, he'll be here soon."

Steve sat beside Hulk and the two sat and waited for their friend to arrive.

Jon stumbled around the room trying to find his balance. His mind was a blur as it adjusted to the changes his body was going through. He gritted his teeth as a bushy blonde beard sprouted from his face. It grew down to his chest, unkept and untamed. And his short brown hair started to grow long, becoming a lighter hue in the process.

"I don't remember Thor having a massive beard like that, it kinda suits him." Steve pointed out.

Much like his two friends, Jon's body began to rapidly grow, but it didn't go quite like it had for the others. Sure his arms did grow large with muscle, but they also got covered in a thick layer of fat, making them lose their definition. The same happened to his forearms, and his hands became thick as fat pumped his fingers like sausages.

His shoulders broadened to fit his costume, but unlike Steve, his uniform remained a cheap knock off. The metal armour was just silver fabric and the cape was just a red blanket. That wouldn't matter for long though as his flat stomach started to bulge outward. Surely this was leading to Thor's chiselled abs being formed under his uniform, but it wasn't. Steve and Hulk watched in horror as a round beer gut slowly grew under the god's costume. The cheap fabric ripped to shreds, releasing his soft belly to hang over his waist band.

"I don't remember that being there." Steve remarked.

"Thor fat?" Hulk asked.

"It looks like it, yeah."

It wasn't over however. If the massive gut wasn't bad enough, his now bare chest began to swell. At first it seemed like they were growing with muscle, but the muscle quickly became engulfed in soft fat. They swelled into man tits, sagging to the sides of his gut. His back didn't fare much better, rolls of fat formed all down his formerly chiselled back and thick love handles filled in his thin waist, rounding out his body shape.

"Oh god it's awful, but I can't take my eyes off of it. Isn't there something hot about the god of thunder letting himself go and becoming... that." Steve pointed out, looking to Hulk for a response. Hulk only gave a shrug in response.

Thor leaned against a wall for support, trying to get used to his changing proportions. Though he was far from over. The sound of fabric ripping once again echoed around the room as Thor's ass grew fat and flabby. His pants finally gave way when his thighs thickened, leaving him in nothing but a tight jockstrap that pressed into his soft legs.

"Ohhh that jock is not big enough for him." Steve chimed in, making sure to keep his eyes on Thor.

Steve was right, that jock was meant to contain Jon, not the god of thunder himself. His dick quickly doubled in length and girth, causing only the tip to be inside the jock, but his expanding fat pad quickly covered up most of his cock. Also the laces on his boots began to snap off when his feet grew 5 sizes, causing his shoes to be on the brink of exploding.

Meanwhile, his head was still undergoing changes. His now blonde hair grew down past his shoulders and matted together. His facial features grew strong and masculine, but also soft as the fat rounded out his face. And a thick double chin formed under his jaw, although it was luckily covered by his massive beard.

As the transformation came to an end, Thor finally took a step away from the wall. He let out a hefty belch while rubbing his stomach.

"Anyone got a beer?" He asked, seemingly annoyed.

The robot approached him.

"Welcome, Thor." It held out a pair of sweatpants and a beer.

Thor snatched the pants and slid them on before grabbing the beer and stumbling over to a nearby chair.

"Damn Thor, what happened to you." Steve commented while trying to contain his laughter.

"What do you mean what happened to me?" Thor played dumb.

"You got fat!" Steve was no longer containing his laughter as he walked across the room toward Thor.

"Well you're the perv with a cum stain." Thor tried laughing between beer fueled burps.

"You're calling me a perv, I remember what you did to me back in New York." Steve leaned in close enough to smell the beer off of Thor breath and ran his finger down Thor's gut towards his crotch.

"Oh so you do like the belly?" Thor flirted back.

"Hulk tired of waiting." Hulk grunted as he grabbed both men by the arms and dragged them towards the elevator. Thor seemingly unaware of the fact that he left his hammer behind. The previously plastic hammer sparkled with blue lightning as it sat behind Thor's chair.

The Hulk squeezed into the elevator, holding the two men on either side of him. The air was awkwardly silent though the short elevator ride while Hulk continued to hold Steve and Thor the entire time. The elevator chimed and the door opened to reveal Tony Stark, welcoming you to his penthouse.

[rodolfoparras]

My dude, that three headed ghost idea is noice, all I can think about is them trying to fight with each other to just a taste, even if it's only a slither of you. Trying to get them to calm down as they ravage you, like a pack of hungry wolves.

Thinking about three headed ghost giving you a blow job, watching them constantly bumping heads because it’s such a tight fit, having the muscles in your thighs crying in protest because you have to sit so wide to accommodate for all three of them. Whenever one manages to wrap his lips around your dick, the jerking movements coming from the other two causes it to slip out his mouth and slap onto the other twos cheeks.

But it’s not long before you got another mouth delivering tentatively kitten licks to your tip, each lick sending sparks of pleasure running down your spine and leaves you bucking your hips.

Just as you’re about to ask for more please, another mouth eagerly sucks you down. The head is quick to set a steady pace as if he knows he’ll be yanked away any second, obscene squelching sound mingle with the strangled sound escaping your lips. “Fuck just like that please!”

Suddenly a third mouth swallows you down to the hilt, taking you so far you can feel the throat muscles working around your dick.

At this point you can practically taste your release, the coil in your stomach growing tighter as his warm wet mouth keeps sucking your dick. “So ah- so close please!”

There’s a frantic urge to lock the head in place, to keep him from moving away. But your legs are spread so wide you’re unable able to move around, practically left at their mercy and silently praying they’ll let you finish.

However he too is yanked away from your grip, leaving your poor cock surrounded to the frigid air, your release dying down with each second that passes.

At that point you’ve just about had enough, ready to pry yourself away from them and finish yourself up but as you turn to look at them you’re met with the sight of two of the heads making out; licking into each others mouth, sucking on each others tongue, moaning like theyre actually sucking on your cock.

All thoughts leave your head as you sit there looking dumbfounded before you suddenly jerk in place as a pair of lips wrap around your dick. The third head looks at you with watery eyes and lips all slack, as if telling you use me, please

And who are you to deny him that?

[beatrixstonehill2]

"None of my tops fit.... Nothing zips or buttons... I just can't keep up. Guys, I'm gonna have to go topless 24/7 soon. Thank you all for smashing those sub goals and sharing my Twitch all over social media..... When I first came up with the subscription incentive of taking breast growth pills, I thought it would be harmless fun. Like do these things ever work???? I was barely a B-Cup, so what did I have to lose? Well, being able to wear clothes is a start. Or not getting groped a dozen times a day. Or not dripping milk everywhere like some dumb hucow...... God I was such a moron for doing this!

But don't get it twisted. I'm SO grateful to you all. I got to quit my day job and now I stream full time, but these breasts are getting insanely huge. Like.... I'm legit considering throwing out all my tops, converting any dresses I like into skirts.... That's it. And you guys know I'm too addicted to growing out my breasts now to actually stop. I love it. Although it's painful and humiliating and I get raped like some free use cum dump on public transportation and at parks.... Even in line at the grocery store or bank, some dudes are so thirsty. So now you can't even really see it, but my belly is constantly full of kids. I try to show you guys when I remember to..... I'm exaggerating a bit, but soon my boobs will cover my whole belly and lap.... you won't even know I'm filled with some stranger's kids.

And it's so effed up, but I thank guys that randomly grope and fuck me. I guess I'm so into geek culture and games and anime.... hentai... that my brain is rotting. I used to be so against all this stuff but look at me now, acting like a perfect hentai bimbo, happily getting fucked in public, filled with cum, putting on a show for people's phones.... It's so sick but I love it. And my channel's only growing. I'm going to wind up as one of those front-page girls, aren't I? Naked, my boobs so big I'm surrounded by them, my arms resting on them with my mouse and keyboard as I play. I legit can't move and have to hire maids to clean me, feed me, and milk me.... If I'm rich, I guess it won't matter if I'm immobilized by these things, huh? I hope my spine doesn't snap from being so reckless, but they have those ocular computer and gaming interfaces paralyzed and quad amputee girls use so who cares, I guess? I'm destined to have my tits weigh 200lbs each..... And I'll love every second of it."

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

How To Adapt To Fire (III)

AU MASTERLIST || THE FINAL PART

PAIRING: Fireman!John 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Journalist!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.4k

WARNINGS: Fire(s), intended harm, death/gore, murder, crime, corruption, arsonist mystery plot, protective!Johnny, flirting, intense banter, attempted murder, burns, needles, injuries, one dirty joke, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Running, the wind whips past your face with the force of a hurricane. 

The screams echoed over the abandoned neighborhood, leaking and rising as the illumination of a burning body sent slashing shadows along the remnants of houses. Flailing arms and sizzling flesh. It followed you as your feet slapped the concrete, satchel still at your side and your breath echoing in your ears. 

You don’t know where Duncan is—and you dare not look behind you as you dart into someone’s lawn, bee-lining away from Kurt’s now-silent inferno of burnt hair and cooking meat. Grass that grows up to your knees is shoved aside, broken down to the earth as your panting breath is too loud in your ears. It’s all you can hear now, which may be the worst part.

“Holy fuck,” your hiss under your breath, sweat dripping down your neck. Your hands were skinned in your little fall off the steps, but the sting as you slap your palm to the side of one of the houses is lost to you—pain doesn’t matter when adrenaline takes over. “Holy fuck.”

Your fingers drip crimson along the siding, but you’re gone again with ragged inhales, snapping eyes wide. You need to try and circle back for the car, you tell yourself. Patting your pockets for the hard pressure of your keys, you dash past a trash can and sigh when you feel them still there. 

And then you hear the whistling. 

It’s over the air, and in a skid of shoes, you halt and listen intently—a bird in the eyes of a fox. Lungs heaving, your head jerks around as a tune wafts up and pierces your ears. The sound echoes over the houses, flying across fallen roofs and peeling paint. You’re frozen, night corralling you in. 

“Who does this dude think he is?” You ask, a deep fear in your heart and an eerie feeling up your spine. 

It was getting closer. 

Heart stuttering, your legs take you up the back steps of a house to your left, hand snapping to the rusted handle and shoulder ramming into it. It gives way on the second shove, slamming into the far wall before you hit the ground and push on once more, the air gone from your body.

If Duncan can murder his own cousin in the way he had…what could he do to you?

Feet shuffling, your head moves quickly, taking in the decaying living room and joint kitchen—falling stairs that you instantly choose to run up, hands burning. 

Your only hope was the car; you needed to get to a vantage point, find out where Duncan was, and try to avoid him. It wasn’t any different than what you’d seen on TV…right? 

The wooden floor creaks like brittle bones, and you move across it while the scent of fire is still in your nose—gasoline and dead eyes. Your eyes go from one open door to another, beds covered with moth-eaten sheets. From outside of a broken window, you see shadows along the street; whistling. 

You choose a room at random and slink inside, hands already jerking into your satchel and pushing aside the active recorder—reaching for your phone. 

Looking between the window and the device, your dripping fingers slash through contacts until you can find the only one you think to call immediately. 

Smashing down on the green button, your phone is right at your ear as your heartbeat pulses like a drum. As it sits there, you gaze outside, panting with blood smearing along your flesh. You can’t stop thinking about Kurt—how you’d seen a man get burnt alive in front of you as if it were nothing. You’d heard and witnessed a lot of things and had been in more courtrooms than you can count…but nothing would ever top seeing the whites of a man’s eyes as his body erupted into flames. 

“Okay, okay,” the phone quivers, clothes ruffled. You hiss softly, not willing to make more noise than you have to. “C’mon, MacTavish.”

A long shadow looms in the streetlight and you drop to the floor swiftly, knees slamming the wood, just as the click on the line pushes through.

“Dearie,” the Scot’s teasing voice is a godsend. “Didn’t expect you to call so soon. Not that I—”

“I fucked up,” you breathe, and the fireman’s audible snapping of his mouth would have been comedic in any other situation. “I really fucked up, and I think I need a little intervention here before I literally go up in the flames of my ambition.”

You’re talking so fast you doubt he can even understand you, but you continue as your forehead peaks above the window frame. 

Duncan is at the house next to where you’re hiding. Standing out front with a gas can in his hand and a matchbox in the other. You watch with horrified eyes as he walks to the front porch, pours the accelerant, and steps back to light a match. 

“Oh,” you growl through a hurried gasp. “So now he decides to change M.O.”

The neighbor's home alights. 

He’s trying to corner you.

Johnny’s panicked voice wafts through. “What in the hell are you talking about?”

“Listen,” you watch the fire spread, hands spasming. “I was going to wait for you, alright. J-just then I decided to not do that and I—”

“What the fuck!” There’s fast movement on the other side of the line, seemingly paper and pencils hitting the floor as fast feet slam the ground. 

“It’s not my fault I’m a stubborn bitch!” You snap, moving your free hand to the back of your neck and rubbing along the sweat there, smearing crimson. “I can’t get back to the car right now and Duncan is lighting the entire neighborhood on fire to try and catch me. I have all of it on the recorder, and I can’t lose the evidence for the inevitable court case.”

Johnny’s voice is so serious and hard, you know you’ve never seen a side like this from him before. It’s nearly a growl. “I don’t give a shit about fucking evidence. Where are you?”

You rattle off Kurt’s address from memory, face streaked with light from the fire. It was going to spread to this house. The wood is like free food just waiting for it willingly; you have to move before it catches. With the condition of the home, it would only be kindling for a larger blaze ready to overtake the street. 

Johnny’s voice is heavy. “Stay where you are and—”

Your laugh is grim, and you move out of the room rapidly as the boom of falling wood makes the ground shake. Breath nothing more than a shaky jump in your nose, you push out, “Not an option.”

“What do you mean ‘not an option’ what the hell is going on over there?! I swear, I told you not to go without me!” 

“Bring the fire trucks! All of them!” You shout and hang up swiftly as Johnny’s loud call of your name is silenced. 

You’re halfway down the stairs when the back door you’d previously busted through creaks on its hinges. 

Above fire, above the pattering of your pulse, your eyes are stuck-still. Stationary. Stiff. 

Duncan stares at you—and you stare at him. 

It’s like time utterly stops, hit in the face by a metal pipe before its teeth get knocked to the ground in a clatter of white enamel. Shell-shocked. 

Your phone rings again—Johnny, no doubt, but when it does, Duncan pounces.

He tosses the gas canister to the ground, followed by a quick match as you curse and race back upstairs. The whoosh of flames bursts into existence as hard boots follow after you, hot on your heels. 

“Shit!” You yell, calling out a firm and fearful, “Duncan!” 

A hand swipes at your shirt collar before you duck and pivot, shifting to brace your feet and ram your shoulder backward. The man takes the force right to the chest and shouts, tilting on the steps with a flailing arm, fingers that card through the air. 

But you’re not quick enough in the rabid getaway. 

A hand latches onto your wrist, and then you’re being yanked down with him into the awaiting arms of the burning fire.

—

Johnny’s whole heart is more active than when he and you were stuck in the sheets together—arousal is nothing compared to the fear he feels. 

The man’s legs carry him quickly into the engine room, grabbing gear and sending out the alarm. Already calls were coming in from dispatch, worried civilians who had said they’d seen what appeared to be twin fires off into the more abandoned parts of the left-to-rot suburbs. 

His panic extends to the next country it’s so far-reaching. Your call—your voice—the things you’d told him and, worse, what you hadn’t. 

Why did you have to be so stubborn?

He needs to get to you, and he can’t breathe properly until he does.

It doesn’t take the firemen long to get into the trucks—the red demons rocketing out of the station with every blaring alarm at their disposal, and at every bump, Johnny’s stiff eyes glare openly at his lap. The others dare not say anything to him; they all know that look.

A man on the edge of a fraying line. Stuck on the knife—waiting for the final twist. 

With all of the gear, MacTavish could be compared to someone heading straight into war, and with the following wail of police sirens, maybe war was where he was always meant to be. Johnny fidgets, his fingers clenching and unclenching above the meat of his thighs, helmet on his head nothing but a weight of reminder. He was there to stop fires—he was there to put them out. 

But even God knew that the second his boots hit the ground, and the rest of the firemen were grabbing the hoses, he would be running into that inferno without a second glance backward. 

Johnny was born and bred from fire, and at the very end of it, the flames would take him back.  

Not yet, he’d say. Not until she’s safe. 

The Scot grabs the face-piece at his feet, fixes it over his visage, and listens to his own rabid breath echo back to him. It was louder than any other sound he’d ever heard.

The shaking of his fingers is a traitorous beast.

—

Dragging an arm over the ground, the first thing you do is cough through black smoke. 

Mind delirious, you blink rapidly, stinging eyes unwilling to stay open for long simply due to the spike of irritation—instinctual tears blurring the few moments of clarity to be offered.

You choke on nothing and burn through all of it. 

Flopping, you force your body up onto its hands and knees, the world tilting even then as palms drag and fingers dig. The second your tears slap your knuckles, a leg to your ribs is kicking you back down. 

Yelling in pain, you sprawl to your spine, body bouncing as the sound of fire eating away drywall and dead wood sizzle in your eardrums. Your skin is sweltering, and you can’t stop the flood of sweat dripping off your flesh—it nearly hurts.

Head shaking, wet hands grasp at your wrists forcing them back. 

“You could have left,” Duncan hisses above the waves of spreading fire. If you wanted to live, you had to get out now. The very bones of this house are threatening to buckle like the spine of an old man—visible rafters beginning to cave. Splintering wood. Creaking. “You could have stayed out of it!”

You yell, legs kicking out with the strength you can muster above the carbon monoxide coursing through your blood. Your muscles need oxygen. You need to breathe.

Your lungs are too tight.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Cursing, your body lashes, Duncan and yourself battling along the burning ground as the roof across the room caves in, sending ashes and a large tsunami of orange rolling ever upwards and a shockwave that gives a sliver of an opportunity. 

The both of you hiss, arms moving up to protect your faces. 

Your clothes are ruined—ripped; torn. You don’t even care about any of it. There’s a ferality to you now, a bleeding fear that far drowns even the blood of your skinned hands. As you’re trying to stand again, Duncan tries to barrel into you. 

“I warned you to stop looking into it!” He rages. “Look what you made me do! I killed Kurt because of you!”

You grapple for your satchel, his shadow nearly on top of you before your arms flex and spring like the trigger of a pistol. Swinging the bag back, you send it in an arch with your hands gripping the tough material. The heavy thump and grunt resonates quickly as you hack again, sirens just beginning in the distance totally lost to you. 

“Maybe,” you speak on smoke-tight airways—a heavy wheeze as the fire licks your arms. You shout, almost dropping your bag. “You shouldn't fucking kill people!” 

Your hands grasp the satchel once more, lifting and striking down as Duncan yowls, finally grabbing it and tearing it out of your hands. He wraps his arms around your waist and sends you both directly into the heart of the blaze with an animalistic shove.

Crashing, the immediate flush of fire is so hot that it’s cold—like you’re plunged into ice, even as you feel your skin sizzle. Yet, the resounding scream is nothing compared to the roar of rage as an axe is taken to the last standing wall of the house. 

You fight with Duncan all the while the heat overtakes you, clawing and yelling; nothing more than a banshee of snapping teeth and hatred. The man forces you down, the warmth cooking the skin of your back one patch of flesh and fabric at a time. 

Fingers curl your throat as you dig your thumbs into your aggressor's eyes, choking; wheezing. Black begins to settle in front of your hazy vision, seconds leaning into longer glimpses of moving shadows and growing pain—a pain that adrenaline can only do so much against. And then, just before Duncan’s blood can drip down to your face, his eyes leaking and red, he’s ripped off in a flurry of fast hands and muffled calls. 

An oxygen mask flashes across your dying field of view, and a helmet—a fireproof jacket. Wide, panicked cobalt eyes. And yelling…so much yelling. All of it is stuck behind material that makes it sound like there are voices hidden underwater. 

Hands skimming your shoulders, dragging you out quickly as your bloody fingers grasp in dying panic—fading senses. There are others too, three inside of this house all frantically moving. Ducan is being restrained as well as he’s able to be, dragged back with two sets of hands—one on his shoulders the other on his legs like a child. 

You, on the contrary, get taken up in a fast set of arms more bulky than they are not, shoving you into a heavy chest until your face is hidden into a neck protected by a high collar. 

“Pencils!” Your body burns, and your face contorts as your focus can finally bleed into it. 

Shaking—quivering, your ears are ringing and the rushing feet below you jostle your form. 

Finally making it outside, it’s not a moment later that the entire house falls into itself, a tomb of fire and near death—lost to all but ash. Sirens are suddenly louder; shrill voices. 

Johnny’s hurried voice, and the sound of a mask being ripped off of his face. “Medic!” 

You pant, mouth opening but no words coming out beyond a sharp gasp for fresh air. Something is fitted over your face before you’re lying down on a cot, and your fingers reach but meet air. Head craning up, you blink just in time to see it as the EMTs begin jogging over to their ambulance. Johnny moves and grabs his helmet and throws it to the ground, barking something so loud that you’re broken mind can pick it up.

“Give the fucker to me!” The accent makes it all the more violent, and as your oxygen mask is strapped to your head, you stare owlishly, visage awash with blood and tears. You don’t even want to look down at yourself, and in this haze, you’re not even sure you’d be able to. 

But you can see the rabid events unfolding like your very own TV show. 

Firemen try to grapple Johnny back, but it’s useless to try and stop a brick wall. The Scot shoves one away before his gloved fingers snatch a restrained Duncan, and throws him up on his charred legs.

Senselessly, the arsonist smiles—it’s a distant, psychotic thing. 

“You know the journalist—” A fist is sent hurtling into his face.

Falling back, Duncan cries out as his nose breaks in multiple places; shattering like glass under the force of a steel hammer. 

“Get over ‘ere.” Johnny’s voice is raspy; guttural. You cough and the EMTs connect an IV to your arm, quickly nearing the ambulance as they try to coax you to lay back down. “Bastard! I’ll fucking kill you!”

Bending above Duncan’s body, MacTavish gets in two more sharp blows before he’s torn away with yells and orders—shoved with appeasing pats to his arms and desperate pleas to hold out. 

The police rush over, restraining Duncan and forcing his unconscious body to the side. Blood stains the ground, and the fires continue to blaze—others in the background trying to push it back. 

Chest heaving, your throat is raw, but even so, as the EMTs can’t stop you from weakly peeling back the oxygen mask, you call hoarsely, “Johnny!”

You’re loaded into the ambulance just as his eyes snap over, his chest rising and flailing through all of that gear still visible. Calming words find your ears as the medics move the oxygen back over your nose and mouth, holding it so you can’t take it off again. 

The back door is about to be slammed shut before the familiar square face bullies itself in. 

“Sir, you can’t—!”

“Drive,” the fireman shuffles into the seat directly across from you as large, damp, rags are set over your flesh in quick succession as you hiss, eyes flinching shut. Johnny grunts at the EMT who blinks quickly before he twitches at the sound of your pain; jaw clenching. “...Before I get into that seat myself.” 

The engine rumbles to life, and Johnny’s the one who takes your hand into his and drops his tone—moving closer. It takes a moment for his worry to be shoved behind a lens of surety, not for himself, but for you. 

The uncertainty in your eyes made him want to storm backward and show Duncan what fists can do when that’s all you have to rely on instead of cowardice. Fire was a tool of a weakling, and no man was weaker than one who tried to murder someone like you and your bright intellect. But there was no use thinking about it now.

“Oh, Hen,” Johnny’s voice cracks, eyes glancing you up and down quickly as the EMTs do their work. You wouldn’t be awake much longer—if you managed to fight the pain, they’d put you to sleep for your own safety. 

The burns were…they weren’t good.

“Hey, now,” the fireman eases, forcing a small smile and capturing your ash-smeared cheek. He doesn’t care about the state of his gear—the heavy oxygen tank on his back—all he needs is to hold you; even as little as this. “You just let those boys do their jobs, yeah? They’ll have you back up in no time at all, Pencils. Breathe for me, Dearie.” 

Your fast breaths stutter and the scrape of your vocal cords makes Johnny flinch, his eyelids pulling in as a grimace shifts the lines of his face. 

The man fights with himself to snap at the others and make them tell the driver to push the gas harder. He knows they’re going as fast as they’re able.

You try to speak, but Johnny shuts it down with a firm shake of his head. Seeing the packages of sterile bandages being unpacked with rapid hands, knowing the sting that will follow as they’re placed on leaking skin, the Scot moves closer and lightly shields your vision of it.

“No, c’mon now, don’t speak.” An unsteady smirk. “I know I take your breath away, but let's just wait until you’re at the hospital for all of that, eh?”

At the jerky glare coming off of you, a sliver of his panic leaves him.

Johnny tries a weak chuckle before it falls flat. 

Your eyes pick up on the agony before the black at the sides of your vision sweeps in—taking you away as the first press of wrappings along your back make themselves known. His hand stays firm at your cheek; thumb moving over the skin until that’s all you can focus on anymore. 

His touch. Not the fire’s—not Duncan’s. His. The same man that held you close and watched your back. Who had run into a burning house for your safety even if that was his job to do so. 

Johnny seems to be thinking the same because before your head goes limp against the cot, the familiar drawl sings you to sleep.

“…I would have searched that house for you until it fucking took me with it.”

—

The voice recordings from your charred satchel were in police custody, just as Duncan was. 

Along with the thick bindings that had taken home along your back and the upper part of your shoulders, there were others. Your voice was still a crackling mess—as if the fire had left behind a remnant of itself there, an ever-bending and shifting shard directly in your throat. Not even water could get rid of the itch, but you’d been told it would get better. 

All things considered, it could have been worse. 

There was a shit load to do—to explain. Duncan's involvement as well as the deceased Kurts, whose face still haunts you even now; it probably always will. 

Johnny’s shadow flashes in front of yours and you blink quickly, clearing your head. A pause emanates, and the man’s brows tighten. 

“What?” You try to clear your throat and grimace, the hospital bed uncomfortable for you. You’d much rather prefer Johnny’s. 

“I asked you if you’d want any more blankets, Bonnie,” the Scot’s head tilts. He hums. “More medicine? Feeling alright?” 

“So doting,” you huff, fingers rubbing at your neck before Soap sighs and stands from the side chair he’d been in. “No, I’m…fine.”

“My job.” Johnny grunts and his hand pushes away your own, fingers finding the spot that itches internally and carefully massaging until you’re like putty in his hands. In fact, you nearly purr before you sag into him, eyelids drooping. There’s a smug glance tossed your way. “And I don’t mean to brag, but I think I’m doin’ pretty good.”

Your lips pull, vision slipping upward. “Careful, people will think I got married over the span of three days.”

Johnny blinks, “Didn’t we?”

Your face burns. “No, MacTavish we did not. Hot-head. All the fumes go straight to your head, I swear.” All the talking was only aggravating your voice, but for the life of you, you can’t stop. 

Johnny rolls his eyes, skull tilting. A bead of serious talk leeks in as his fingers shift from your throat to your head, tips stimulating your scalp which you hum approvingly to. “What’s the plan?”

You think for a moment, letting the man come and lay a firm kiss on your temple. Your heart knows he intends to stay with you through all of this—already he’d been out on paid leave about the whole ‘attacking a restrained man’ fiasco. The bastard deserved it, Johnny had growled to you yesterday as he helped you drink water. You had to agree. 

“Sleep,” your answer is soft and simple. There was no use fretting about the whims of a far-off tomorrow. The future is a fickle creature, ever changing shape to fit the image it wants to play with like a doll at the nearest moment—there was never a pen in your pocket that was trying to jot down its profile; to understand it. Johnny was here, the bed was warm, and his hands were kind. 

That was all you needed.

Cobalt eyes stare for a moment at your response, before the Scot chuckles. “...Well, I can’t fight you there.”

Your hand lightly snares his wrist, and you pull him to you, letting his body melt back onto the bed until you can rest your temple on his shoulder and sigh out your tension. Johnny’s arm curls carefully to rest on your lower back, as delicate as glass. 

It’s a while before he speaks again. 

“You really did worry me,” he whispers, staring into the ceiling and trying to make images out of the shadows on the ceiling. “If I hadn’t gotten there…”

“You did,” you utter, eyes half-closed and fingers rubbing at his stomach. He shivers. “One-way road, Johnny. Stop that.”

“Doesn't make me feel any better when you’re stuck in here for two more weeks.” A smile pulls your face and he glances down, feeling it against his shirt. “...What are you smiling about?”

You hide it into his chest and he shakes his head in exasperation, scoffing.

“I swear, I’m the only one who cares about your safety and then I get mocked for it.”

“M’not mocking you,” your muffled voice grumbles out. “You’re just pouting.”

Johnny grunts, rolling his eyes. “Course.”

“Proving my point.”

“Next time I leave,” Soap’s lips are atop your head, muttering. “I’ll be tying you to the bed and watching you through the camera.”

A thin trail of jumpy laughter echoes out into the halls of the hospital, and your response is just as quick as it always is—as it always would be through Hell and high water. This wasn’t an ideal situation, and there would be more trials to come both literally and metaphorically, but Johnny made for a good rock through all of it. 

He certainly was a better informant than you intended him to be. 

“Ooo, Mr. MacTavish,” a loud groan, laced with a fond, almost worshiped, adoration. “I didn’t know you could be so risqué.” 

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[val-made-a-mistake]

Hello! I was hoping I could request one where the reader is Eddie's sister and she gets hurt by someone who is looking for Eddie/Venom and they save her. Thank you very much! Have a great day!

sometimes the simple concepts are the ones that are the most fun to write. thank you for this request - i had a blast writing it! hope you enjoy! word count: 1k warnings: well, a hostage situation, so descriptions of blood and knives and venom's signature decapitation method.

- Eddie’s phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him out of his late-night walk across the city. It was the most he could do when Venom was begging for flesh to gobble all the time, after all. Damage control.

He didn’t need to look at the caller ID - it was yours, the one he’d set as a joke years ago, that dumb banjo that you hated. He answered it immediately.

“Yeah, kid?” he greeted, glancing down the empty street.

A breathless whisper hit him through the phone, more chilling than any shout. “Eddie... someone’s—”

His chest went tight. “Y/N, what’s going on?”

A pause, and then your voice came again, thick with fear. “I'm at a warehouse. The one by the pier - they - they want you.” "Make it quick," someone else further away from the phone - whose voice he didn't recognize - snapped.

And then a click.

Eddie’s hand tightened around the phone, knuckles whitening. What the fuck? Venom’s voice was already prickling in his mind, a low growl bleeding into his own thoughts.

IF THEY HURT HER, WE’LL TEAR THEM TO SHREDS.

“No,” Eddie snapped before he really considered it, his hands shaking - that would only lead to more trouble, and he certainly didn't need more of that right now. The panic washing over him was making it hard to think. What the fuck was going on? Who wanted him? How did they know who you were? “Just - just - let's get her out of there first. Ask questions later." 

It didn't matter what he said: Venom was already stirring beneath his skin, cold as ever, more than ready for a fight. WE NEED TO GO. The dark tendrils slithered over Eddie’s shoulders, wrapping him in slimy, glistening armour as he broke into a sprint down the street, faster than human, closer to monstrous.

-

The warehouse was cold and dark, and it smelled musty - mold was clearly growing from somewhere, making you wrinkle your nose. You hadn’t meant to end up here, of course - just on your way back from work, cutting through the alleys to save a few minutes.

It took one dude twice your size, and, well, now you were stuck here.

“You’re Eddie Brock’s sister, aren’t you?” the man in front of you asked, his voice reminding you of grease and slime and a thousand unpleasant things.

You straightened as best you could while you were tied to the chair, heart pounding. “So what if I am?”

The man stepped closer, enough that you could smell the sharp tang of metal on him. “Your brother’s got something we want. I think you’re just the leverage we need.”

“You know, I didn’t ask to be bait today,” you muttered, hoping to mask the fear creeping up your spine. 

He sneered, stepping forward. “Good thing it’s not your choice.”

The man’s fingers dug into your collar, a glint of metal catching the moonlight as he pulled a knife from his jacket, holding it just below your chin. 

“Your brother’s got something we want,” he repeated. “He and that…thing he hides.”

Your stomach dropped. Of course, he meant Venom.

Fuck, fuck, fuck - not this again. You did not want to get dragged into this. Why was Eddie always getting pulled into something? He'd promised you he would be safer.

You glared at him despite the threat looming, summoning the last of your defiance. “What, you think Eddie’s just going to hand himself over to you?”

The man laughed, cold and humourless. “Not willingly. But with the right motivation...”

You couldn’t help but gasp as the cold metal of the knife met your cheek, the sharp edge piercing the tender skin there. You felt the sting of it instantly, the warm, wet blood running down the side of your quivering face, your neck, and you couldn’t appear confident anymore: your heart was hammering into overdrive. You were panicking, now.

Please, please, please Eddie. Come quickly.

The knife returned to its previous place under your chin, and the man grinned, an evil gleam in his eye. He could tell you were afraid, and he had that leverage over you.

“Let’s wait for him, shall we?”

-

By the time they reached the warehouse, Eddie was no longer against ripping someone's head off. The sight of you that haunted him the whole way there, injured and backed against the cold concrete, hurt and it was his fault, sent a surge of fury and fear through him so strong it nearly brought Venom to the surface in full force.

THEY WILL PAY, Venom hissed, and this time, Eddie didn’t hold him back.

"Do your thing, V," he whispered breathlessly before the symbiote enveloped him in his horrifying, gargantuan entirety.

CRAAAAASH!

The door shattered as they broke through, tendrils snapping and slicing, ripping through everything and swallowing your captor's head whole, making a bloodbath of the scene.

Before long, Venom stood before you, the symbiote's hulking form towering over you. He surveyed your injuries: your face was slashed open and blood was steadily trickling down your cheek, but besides from the fact that your chest was heaving in terror, you looked okay.

I THINK SHE IS OKAY, EDDIE, he said softly.

You met Venom's gaze the best you could when he was several feet taller than you: you knew Eddie was in there, somewhere. “Guess you brought backup, huh?” you asked, a shaky attempt at calm, even though you obviously weren't.

Venom’s eyes glinted, the sharp, unsettling smile softening.

NO ONE HURTS YOU, he growled. THEY WILL KNOW THAT NOW.

Eddie’s familiar face reappeared through the black goop, the dark tendrils receding, but his eyes still looked worried. He reached out to free you from your bonds, his voice soft but shaking.

“You okay?” he asked, his hand squeezing your shoulder.

You nodded, managing a half-smile despite the pain radiating through your ribs. "I'm okay."

Venom’s face formed beside Eddie’s, his gigantic milky eyes narrowing as he stared down at you.

WE WILL DESTROY ANYONE WHO HURTS YOU, he rumbled, his endless rows of teeth stretched in a smile, clearly proud of himself.

For the first time, you laughed, breathless and grateful. "Now," you said, glancing over at the headless body leaking blood that had been tossed in the corner during Venom's rampage, "Do either of you know what the fuck is going on?"